


Old Married Couple

by NewWonder



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Rocket and Groot are some vicious mofos, a lot of swearing, and fluff?, gets kinda dark-ish in several scenes, grocket - Freeform, ill attempts at humor, love still prevails, the raccoon isn't always PG-rated, wash your mouth Rocket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2166009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewWonder/pseuds/NewWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the <i>Milano</i>, they got two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Married Couple

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really familiar with the Marvel universe, so I just went and made some shit up. Please forgive me, I did google a thing or two, I swear!

Frankly, Peter was fucking sick of people calling Gamora and him an “old married couple”.

Or rather, he was sick of his teammates silently and unanimously agreeing with it. They weren’t married, for fuck’s sake!

They weren’t even a couple. Yet.

Okay, maybe _that_ was what really drove Peter around the bend: the fact that he got the dubious pleasure of being subjected to all the unpleasant sides of married life, without enjoying any of its perks.

And really, Gamora needed to learn how to stop worrying and just _chill_. Her nagging was seriously making Peter’s brain leak out of his nose in boiling rivulets.

Okay, so he did have a manly habit of leaving his not-exactly-fresh socks everywhere around. So what? Maybe he was marking his territory! Querians did it by fucking barfing on the furniture, Peter’s dirty socks weren’t exactly the worst variant!

And honestly, did Gamora really have to lecture him _in the middle of a battle?_

“I live with pigs!” she finally exclaimed, distractedly snapping some purple dude’s neck. “This is getting unbearable! There’s a _laundry basket_ on the ship, Peter, and it exists _for a reason!_ ”

“Ah, how you remind me so of my beloved wife,” Drax waxed lyrical while absentmindedly massacring everyone in the nearby vicinity. “So strong was her disposition that I couldn’t help but bow to her bidding every single time she insisted that I did as she willed. Indeed, she truly was the only one I’ve ever been afraid of,” he sighed nostalgically.

“You go get him, girl,” Rocket cackled and got a quick smile from Gamora as a reward. Groot approvingly creaked from above, spearing through half a dozen fuckers with his awesome vine whips of death. Fucking sadistic raccoon and his stupid wooden bitch.

“Tsk, what are you, an old married couple?” the main bad guy sneered.

“SHUT UP!” Gamora and Peter both screeched simultaneously, shattering his cheekbone and kicking him in the nuts respectively. For some reason, Peter was feeling particularly ungentlemanly today.

“Calm your fucking tits, losers, I wasn’t talking about you,” the bad guy looked at them weirdly and slowly got up, spitting blood.

“Then whom—”

A blinding blast hit the bad guy, making Peter’s ears ring. When he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly, Rocket stood in front of him, one paw on the charred corpse.

“Ain’t it clear, sucka?” he asked, his tail arrogantly swishing through air. “He was talking about us.”

“‘Us’?.. Are you saying we look like a married couple?” Peter was confused. He and Rocket weren’t _that_ close.

“No, you dipshit! _Us,_ as in, me and the dumb tree!”

“I am Groot,” Groot confirmed grandly. Peter blinked. It kinda made sense. Heck, they even slept together, Rocket curled up in branch-hands holding him securely. Sometimes he started thrashing and whimpering in his sleep, and then tender green tendrils would grow out of his bed-slash-bodyguard and gently groom his fur, carefully carding through it and working out the kinks, and that simple action never failed to drive Rocket’s nightmares away.

“Holy sweet Batman on a tricycle,” Peter couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed this before. For such a long time, he could have been not alone in his suffering! But now that everything was so clear to him, he was going to tease the whiskers off of the insufferable raccoon! “You so fucking are an old married couple! _Ha!_ ”

“Watch what you’re saying to me, bitch,” Rocket sneered. “‘Old’? No fucking way. I’m at least five times younger than your stupid ass.”

“You’ve got no objections to the ‘married’ part, though,” Gamora observed. Peter silently (okay, maybe not so silently) triumphed, but Rocket did not look daunted.

“Been there, done that, got the bling to prove it,” seemingly out of thin air, he suddenly produced... a golden ring. Simple, plain and not even all that eye-catching; just a tiny band that perfectly fit the raccoon’s bony finger.

Above him, Groot proudly announced:

“I am Groot,” and sure enough, there was another ring twinkling on his thick wooden finger.

Then, silence fell.

 

“But... _how?_ ” Peter finally asked after a calming bottle of beer (he actually wanted some whiskey, but Gamora put her foot down because they weren’t out of the danger zone yet, and Peter grudgingly obeyed). “ _Why?.._ ”

“You are insensitive, Star Lord,” Drax said disapprovingly. “Maybe this young couple is in love.”

“Well, see, there was this priest on Holy Planet Ngarraxa who used to wear this really fucking pricey holy necklace-thingy in his church,” Rocket offhandedly explained. “And we had a very generous customer in great need of that bling, and the only way to get close to the necklace-thingy was to get the priest-dude to join us in wedlock, and—” Rocket made a grand gesture, showing off his modest ring, “here we are.”

“Did you actually need to go all the way through?” Gamora inquired carefully.

“Well, maybe not,” Rocket shrugged. “But this marriage thing? Really fucking nifty. The best part is conjugal visits.”

“...What.” Gamora, Peter and Drax said in unison.

“Eh, that one time there was this really tough prison not even the big wooden lumphead could possibly break out of on his own, and of course he went and got himself into a cell. See, it was _really_ heavily guarded, and you can trust me to know what I’m talking about.”

“It would take more than little old me to break into the security system and take out all the guards. There were Quons, Ergons and fuck knows who else. But why break in if you can just walk inside, casually as you please, and demand your lawful visit to your very own husband?”

Rocket paused to get some air. Groot creaked, boughs rustling.

“And they let you? In my experience, law isn’t something they pay any mind to in that kind of prisons,” Peter mused.

“I think... those shits just wanted to see the tree getting it on with a raccoon,” Rocket acknowledged heavily. “They didn’t give a shit about the law, but the idea amused them.”

“And?..” Peter finally nudged on very carefully, when it became clear that Rocket wasn’t going to continue any time soon, his ears flat and his teeth bared.

“Oh, we gave them a show alright, didn’t we, big guy?” Rocket sneered viciously.

“I am Groot,” Groot said, his voice impossibly sad.

“Tch, don’t sweat it, you big baby. What matters is that they didn’t suspect anything until the very end, and we got you out of there. After all, it wasn’t like any of them lived to tell the tale.”

“How did you escape?” Gamora asked surprisingly gently.

“Oooh, that was genius, I tell ya. All I had to do was stealthily drop a nifty little self-guided bomb into the toilet when I went to take a leak. That baby navigated the sewage pipes until it got close enough to the command center. Boom—and the security system is toast. Of course, we still had to kick some ass on our way out, bit it wasn’t like either of us terribly minded.”

“I am Groot,” Groot reminded reproachfully.

“Oh, quit yer whining already,” Rocket snapped impatiently. “So I just bit off his nose, so what? I told you we didn’t have any time for you to rip out his entrails and make him eat them like you wanted. I fucking shot him, alright? He’s dead. End of story.”

Groot just looked at his... husband with those huge sorrowful eyes. Peter winced; suddenly he felt very uncomfortable.

“The stupid log gets upset every time bitches call me names, like ‘stinky furball’ or ‘flea-ridden rug’,” Rocket scornfully waved his paw. “Rule #1: _I’m_ the one doing the all name-calling. Ain’t that right, Groot?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said with a protective glint in his eyes.

“How did that priest even get Groot to say, ‘I do’?” Peter laughed a little hysterically.

“I think he might be some kind of an empath,” Rocket pondered. “Groot just went, ‘I am Groot,’ like he usually does, and the guy simply nodded and went on with the ceremony. Heck, I saw him join something tentacled and a huge blob of sentient slime in holy matrimony before us; that, too, went plenty okay. The blob didn’t even have a _mouth_ , but the priest dude managed somehow. Yeah, definitely an empath. They did look kind of really happy... especially the blob.”

“I am Groot,” Groot agreed.

“Eh, shut up big guy. Honestly, you’re such a sap. Hey, I’m hungry! Anybody wants burgers?”

After they destroyed the last burgers on the ship, Peter finally got the courage to get Rocket relatively alone (Groot did tend to hang around him most of the time), and quietly ask him the question that has been troubling Peter’s mind since the unexpected morning revelations.

“So, um. You still married, right?” he ventured first, with false cheer.

“But of course, dumbfuck,” Rocket answered with an insufferable air of superiority. “You cannot fake these rings, and you cannot divorce from a marriage commenced on Holy Planet Ngarraxa. This shit is forever, baby.”

“So, how, you know—um—that? Yeah.” That was even harder than he thought. Peter really wanted to hit his head against something hard. (The word brought a whole new swarm of unwanted images into his head. Peter silently prayed that they wouldn’t show up in his dreams tonight.)

“Peter, you dirty boy,” Rocket sneered, but still motioned at him to get down to the raccoon’s level. When Peter obeyed, Rocket quietly murmured, his whiskers tickling Peter’s ear:

“Those little tendril thingies of his—they’re _the shit_ , man. Like seriously.”

“Oh. Uh. Um. Err—yeah. And what about—you know, _him_?”

“Groot’s a fucking _tree_ , cretin,” Rocket scoffed. “He ain’t even got a gender. Do you think this dioecious stuff does anything for him?”

“He does bloom every once in a while, though—twice a year, I think. Two whole weeks of flowers everywhere, and the _smell!_ Shit makes my head hurt. You’re lucky he’s already bloomed a couple of months ago, just before the green bitch waltzed in and ruined our kidnapping of one Peter ‘Star Lord’ Quill. He’ll be good for another three or four months, at least.”

 

_Several days later..._

“We have a customer,” Gamora announced from her place at the comm panel, just as Peter walked in. “And guess what, he wants some rare gem from Holy Planet Ngarraxa. Says it’s kept in some church, heavily guarded, but the reward is going to be worth the risk.”

“Before you say yes, we ain’t going,” Rocket declared. “Both me and Groot are still wanted there, and that place fucking _swarms_ with security. Our asses will be in jail before we land, and while I’m a pro at breaking out, there are many better things I’d rather be doing in my free time.”

For some reason, Rocket didn’t sound as sarcastic today; in fact, he seemed almost— _happy?_ Groot sent a tendril to smooth out the fur between his ears, and Rocket nearly _purred_. Groot’s eyes twinkled affectionately.

Peter suddenly noticed that Groot’s branches were entirely covered in tender pink blossom that was already starting to wither and fall. A strong, sweet aroma filled the air, spreading throughout the ship. Peter knew that smell; he often felt it in his quarters, but still hadn’t gotten around to investigating its source.

He stared at Groot and the lounging raccoon, bug-eyed. Rocket caught his gaze and sent him a self-satisfied smirk along with a little shrug.

“What do you say, Peter: do we accept the job or not?” Gamora asked.

“Oh—um— _yes_. Definitely. In fact, I’ll do the job myself! But I’ll need your help, of course,” Peter proclaimed.

“Roger that,” Gamora rose gracefully, stretching her lithe limbs. “The course is set, the _Milano_ is going to be on the orbit in two days, six hours, forty-one minute.”

“ _Sweet,_ ” Peter declared, with feeling.

Rocket flashed him a frankly disturbing grin. Groot just creaked encouragingly and held a mighty thumbs up.

**Author's Note:**

> At first I wanted to leave it to the reader's imagination whether the marriage of the tree and the raccoon is platonic or, um, not. But then... _tree tentacles_. I couldn't resist.
> 
> I was thinking of maybe doing a sequel that is mainly Peter/Gamora, if anyone's interested?.. :D


End file.
